


scarlet

by precious_red



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6855316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/precious_red/pseuds/precious_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers quickly learn that cruelty is not in Wanda Maximoff’s nature. </p><p>(aka, I've had enough of the MCU's terrible characterization of Wanda)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wanda learns how to breathe.

The first time Wanda smiles after Pietro’s death is when she meets Pietro 2.0— that is, Nathaniel Barton.

The Avengers are all clustered nervously in a hospital waiting room, all in civilian clothes. To their credit, the hospital staff pays them no mind, working as diligently as ever. 

As the clock ticks on, without any word from Clint or Laura, Wanda feels an uncomfortable pit growing in her stomach. She shouldn’t be nervous for this group, she really shouldn’t.

She has been a member of the team for a month now, but has yet to befriend a single member. She spends most of her days hiding in her room, sometimes crying, sometimes staring at a wall. She comes downstairs for meals— but half the team is missing from those: Stark in his make-shift lab, Romanoff in the gym. Perhaps she is nervous because it is Clint, who has tried the hardest to make a connection with her.

But then, Wanda sees her brother’s body riddled with bullet holes, the scrape on Barton’s shoulder where a single bullet just barely grazed his body, and feels like throwing up every time she sees him. 

Barton had saved her life on the battlefield, but now that they have left it, he’s just another ghost of her brother.

The Vision (that’s what he requested to be called, probably tired of all the sci-fi references Clint and Stark were throwing his way) places a hand on her shoulder and Wanda jumps. He awkwardly removes his hand as the two make eye contact, then hurriedly break it. Wanda has spent a majority of her life as a science experiment, Vision has been alive for only a month— social cues are a work in progress.

Sometime before dawn but after two in the morning, a disheveled Clint Barton steps out into the hospital lobby, then breaks into a brilliant grin.

Romanoff is the first on her feet, followed by, surprisingly enough, Tony Stark, who bolts upright, then awkwardly hangs back, waiting for the rest of the team to get to their feet.

Wanda dutifully files in with the rest of them, hears Clint say “Nathaniel Pietro Barton”, and can’t breathe.

The pain strikes her again, but it’s different now. Not as empty, not as hollow and bitter and cruel. It’s sharp and unforgiving, but it’s red and hot and alive and—

Wanda had always been quick to cry when she had been a child, but she grew out of it after her parents had died. But now, as she feels the stinging in her eyes, childhood seems to lurk in the very shadows of her face.

Each team member steps up to the bed, grinning at Laura, cooing at baby Nathaniel— Tony is currently awkwardly standing beside him when Wanda hears herself say:

“Can I?” and then her voice chokes off.

The room is too small and Wanda’s breathing speeds up.

Clint nods.

Okay.

She takes small steps towards the bed, not even looking at Laura, who exchanges a nervous glance with Clint. Clint offers a reassuring nod, but Wanda doesn’t notice any of that because her eyes are focused solely on the little bundle of cloth in Laura’s arms.

His eyes are dark and his hair is healthy and blonde and he’s red and wrinkly and looks nothing like her brother and yet—

“Hello,” she says, her voice wavering. She doesn’t notice the brilliant smile spreading across her own face.

She reaches a hand out and lightly brushes his cheek. His mind lingers at her fingertips, so bright and new. It’s innocent and pure and beautiful and Wanda almost giggles from how light she feels at this moment.

“Hello,” she repeats. Her voice is stronger now, and her cheeks are starting to hurt, “Hi Nathaniel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- this was something I started writing after Age of Ultron because the MCU's Wanda was so close to being the incredible character she is, but also slightly off  
> \- post-CW it's definitely not the same Wanda in the MCU but a girl can dream  
> \- anyways, this is my first fic so I'd really appreciate any comments or criticism!  
> \- Thanks for reading!


	2. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony Stark is a guilty mess and so is Wanda Maximoff

They’re staying at the Barton home again. The New Avengers facility is only halfway built, and nobody wants to be at the tower. It’s the last place Pietro brushed his teeth at. The last place Jarvis wished Stark good morning. The last place Banner ate dinner.

So they go to Clint’s house, sharing rooms, sleeping on couches, meeting each other in the kitchen at one in the morning because literally none of them can properly fall asleep.

Before Nathaniel is born, Wanda almost exclusively stays in her room, where she’s constantly woken up in cold sweat by dreams of oil drenched hearts and bullet riddled bodies. She sits there afterwards, wringing her hands, clawing at her arms, willing the shivering to stop.

On their first day back from the hospital, Wanda is yet again woken up at three, gasping and trying to wipe oil slick from her trembling hands.

She stands up and wanders out of her makeshift bedroom, a cot squeezed into the laundry room. Of all the Avengers, she is the only one who sleeps alone. She hadn’t asked, but Barton had understood nonetheless.

When she arrives in the kitchen, she sees the one person she would have most liked to avoid.

_“For two days, we wait for Tony Stark to kill us,” her voice echoes from the past._

_“That’s not who I am anymore,” his voice echoes back, low and uncertain, like Stark was trying to convince himself more than the Maximoffs._

He’s leaning back on the cold granite counter, hands pale around a mug of something, probably coffee, eyes staring blankly down into its depths. 

Wanda has only ever hated this man. Awkward, is putting the past month lightly, sharing a house with the same man who killed her parents. And in this moment, Wanda is tempted to turn around and walk back to her room, before he notices her.

But then she remembers that it is her hatred that drove her to force Stark to face his worst fear, and it was that fear that drove him to create Ultron, and it was Ultron who killed her brother.

Stark’s shoulders are curled inwards, his posture is rigid, his eyes are blank and haunted. Curious as to what could make such a brash man a mere mortal, Wanda stretches her mind out, brushes his and—

_“You could have saved us.”_

—she stumbles backwards, almost gasping aloud from the sudden surge of despair.Wanda never knows what a victim of one of her fear trips will see— she simply glances around their mind, finds the darkest corner, and pushes them in that direction.

And this horrific image, of a world made vulnerable, of a man left alone to watch it fall, this is what lies in Stark’s darkest corner. Not the loss of his company or fortune or prestige, but of his team. He shivers and curls in on himself further.

Wanda takes a deep breath and decides she is done with hatred.

“Hello,” she ventures softly. He doesn’t even jump, but instead blankly looks up. His eyes widen slightly, in tired surprise.

“Maximoff,” he mumbles, “Didn’t think you were still awake.”

She laughs softly, but it’s not cruel. “We were all at Sokovia.”

Stark stares at her, looking increasingly confused, then nods. “Guess so,” he says. Then he wordlessly turns and pours another cup of probably-coffee.

“Thank you,” Wanda says, taking and sip and discovering that it is not coffee, but rather hot chocolate.

“Not espresso I know,” Stark says, turning the telepathic tables on Wanda, “Trying to develop some good habits. Mom used to make it and it worked when I was a kid so…” He trails off, and Wanda imagines he must be extremely exhausted if he’s willingly sharing this much about himself, talking about even his mother. 

It’s not a thought that has occurred to Wanda before. Tony Stark has a mother.

“What is her name?”

“Maria.”

There’s a long pause, then Wanda takes a risk. “My mother’s name was Magda.”

It’s almost imperceptible, but Tony freezes. 

“She was thirty-two when she died.” There’s no cruelty in Wanda’s voice, but Tony flinches anyways.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forgive the man who made those weapons,” Wanda says simply, as Tony stares even harder into his mug of hot chocolate, brown eyes steely, “But I don’t know if you are still that man.”

Tony glances sharply up at her, his posture rigid, mouth set in a tight line. Then he turns away, gazing at a spot on the wall. “Neither do I.”

They had spent 6 hours looking for Tony after the Sokovia disintegrated in the air. They, being primarily Captain Rogers and Colonel Rhodes.

Wanda doesn’t remember much of the day, only that the combined worry Rogers’s and Rhodes’s minds had started to give her a headache— she remembered wondering why men like Rogers and Rhodes worried so much about a man like Stark, why a man like Stark had most likely given up his life to save a country he had once nearly destroyed.

Tony was supposed to spend the longest in the hospital. He had charmed the nurse into letting him out first, and within two hours he was at Sokovia with the Maria Stark Foundation, helping with search and rescue efforts.

The two sit in silence for some time, taking small sips of the hot chocolate.

“I am sorry for the vision I showed you,” Wanda finally says, breaking the silence.

“I’m sorry for the way I reacted to it.”

“I suppose we both have blame to carry,” she says, running her thumb around the rim of the mug.

Tony looks up and meets Wanda’s gaze, his eyes inscrutable. “I guess we do.”

“Sta--” Wanda starts, then stops herself. “Tony,” she says instead, “Can you tell me about how rebuilding efforts are going in Sokovia?”

Tony nods and pulls out his phone, taps to a page, and hands it to Wanda.

“Good.” He says, “Better than I expected.”

Wanda looks at the webpage, the Maria Stark Foundation. They’re holding a fundraiser for Sokovian refugees, have raised about two million dollars already. They’re taking calls for volunteers.

Wanda hands the phone back. “It’s not enough, is it?” she says.

Tony shakes his head, lips pinched. “Not even close,” he says, sighing and sliding a hand over his face. “Rebuilding a country, even a small one, it takes a lot.”

Wanda nods. “You have the Avengers helping?” she asks.

“We’ve been switching off every few days. We took a break for Laura but now that Nathaniel’s been born, I’ll be heading out again.”

It makes sense, then, that Wanda did not see the Avengers often this past month, even when she did dare venture out of her room. They were out. Helping.

Helping Sokovia. Helping Wanda’s home. 

Wanda’s eyes begin to water as she feels an awful, quiet, shame.

“Can I help?” Wanda ventures softly, as though she’s afraid of being turned down.

Tony doesn’t look surprised, but he still asks, “You sure you’re okay to be back in the field?”

Wanda doesn’t answer, doesn’t have an answer. But she looks at Tony’s red rimmed eyes, thinks of her own haunted face in the mirror, and thinks he gets it.

“I’ll talk to Cap,” he says finally.

Then: “Can I ask— what woke you up?”

“Pietro,” Wanda replies simply, ‘It always is. No variation.”

Tony nods, then pulls out his phone again.“I just sent you some contact information— it’s uh. A list of Sokovians who are still. You know. A SHIELD counselor can only do so much… ” He trails off a little awkwardly, and Wanda finds it fascinating how different Tony is without his armors. 

“I do not know if you are still that man, but I know you are trying not to be,” Wanda says, almost whispers, after a moment. “Thank you for the hot chocolate and company,” and she starts to walk away.

The next morning, she greets Tony with a quiet, “good morning,” and Tony nods sleepily in acknowledgment, before making a beeline for the coffee pot in Rogers’ hand. The Captain sees the exchange and gives a Wanda a confused, but pleased glance. Wanda averts her eyes, but smiles nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Wanda's not the type to hold grudges  
> \- I figured Wanda and Tony would probably bond (?) over shared guilt complexes  
> \- I changed the line from Age of Ultron ("This was never my life") to "That's not who I am anymore" because it seems much much more in character for Tony (s/out to Whedon's careless writing)


	3. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve Rogers is Team Dad

For the first three weeks after Sokovia, Wanda sits in her room. The Avengers are always in and out of the house— repossessing stolen Ultron tech, dealing with the press, arguing with the government, rebuilding Sokovia— but Wanda stays isolated.

No one asks her to come out and Wanda doesn’t ask to leave.

One day, when she’s going downstairs to get a glass of water, she overhears Rogers talking in hushed whispers to Barton:

“I’m just worried Barton. She’s a member of the team but she’s barely said a word to any of us. I don’t even know if she’s eating properly!”

“Steve, it’s alright. She needs time to grieve.”

“Grieving alone only works for so long,” Steve says, and his voice is so heavy that Wanda wonders if he’s talking about her or himself.

Nonetheless, after the conversation both Barton and Rogers start making attempts to talk to Wanda, to include her. Wanda is unrepentantly unreceptive.

After a week, Rogers manages to cajole Wanda down for movie night. “First one since— you know. You wouldn’t want to miss it.” Wanda is mostly just tired of the concerned glances and the hushed whispers and the fucking pity.

So she finds herself perched at the corner of a couch, far from everyone else, watching the opening credits of The Lord of the Rings.

(One of Clint’s kids had originally suggested Terminator, and was quickly shut down by everyone else in the room)

That’s when the Widow’s phone beeps with a text message. She looks at it, and Wanda physically flinches at the sudden burst of emotion she feels come from the Widow.

“Nathaniel is—” and suddenly everyone is on their feet heading out to the Quinjet. Wanda thinks about staying in place, but she catches Steve’s gaze. He looks somewhere between disappointment and hope, kindness and understanding and there it is again, the pity. Wanda sighs deeply, firmly ignores any flashes of Pietro’s own blue eyes, and slowly gets to her feet. She keeps her eyes planted on the floor and pretends to ignore the smile in Rogers’s eyes.

They get back to the Barton home almost eight hours later, and all of them head immediately to bed (though most of them don’t actually sleep— side effect of being a superhero, Wanda supposes). Wanda sits on her bed for a long time that night, staring into empty space and blinking away the tears burning in her eyes. Then she falls asleep and for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t see Pietro in her nightmares.

Three days later, when everyone but Clint is back from the hospital, they find themselves sitting in the common room in front of the TV again.

“So….” Tony says, “Who’s up for finishing the movie?”

Thor grins. Rogers smiles. Romanoff shrugs. Vision nods, then looks at Wanda.

Wanda, who can feel her heartbeat for the first time in a long time. Wanda, whose skin feels warm and alive. Wanda, who still feels the dull emptiness in her chest where Pietro’s presence used to be.

“I’ve yet to see it in English. The Sokovian dub was shit.”

There’s a long pause, then Rogers quirks his lips and says, somewhat defeatedly, “Language.” 

The room bursts into laughter, and for once, Wanda joins them. They settle down on the couches and this time it’s Wanda cautiously catching Rogers’s eyes to give him a small, appreciative smile.

After the movie, the team disperses, Tony promising a Thor that they’ll watch the second one next week-- Thor nods and pretends he’s still not teary eyed from Boromir dying. Wanda doesn’t want to know what will happen when he meets Faramir and Lord Denethor. 

“Wanda, hold up,” Steve says, as she stands to leave.

Wanda turns to face him, eyes wide. She’s not in trouble, right? For the first few weeks after Sokovia, everyone had regarded her with suspicion. Nameless government agents (not SHIELD, they had assured Captain Rogers) would come around for periodic monitoring, but when it became clear that Wanda was doing little more than sleeping, the caution had mostly disappeared.

Steve seems to read her mind— all the Avengers seem a little too good at that— and chuckles. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”

He puts his hands on his hips and draws his body up in what Wanda has learned to recognize as the Captain America Pose™. “We’re going on a mission in a few weeks, taking out another covert Hydra cell. Are you in?”

Wanda’s eyes widen. “Are you-- are you sure you want?” she stammers. Wanda still keeps to herself at team dinners, doesn’t come out for training, can’t seem to get rid of the dark circles under her eyes.

“You’re a part of the team, aren’t you?”

She isn’t sure anyone actually believes that. She isn’t even sure if she believes that. There aren’t many options for a young, enhanced, orphaned girl with psychic powers. Wanda’s were: join the Avengers or get locked up in the lab, and the government was still fighting for the latter.

“I— I suppose so,” she says.

“Do you want to come?” Steve asks gently.

Wanda breaks his gaze and stares at her feet, biting her lip. She thinks about the last time she used her powers, thinks about dust and oil slick and metal shattered into a hundred shards by red waves of energy. She thinks about the angry burns on her hand from the still beating heart she pulled from Ultron’s chest. Does she want to come? 

She’s silent long enough that Steve adds: “Take it from someone who knows. Doing something, anything, makes it easier. It’s at least better than sitting around with ghosts.”

Wanda has met with a psychologist, three times now. He’d encouraged her to open up, to talk to people— discouraged her from doing what she had been doing, sitting around alone, and doing what the Captain is suggesting now, suppress her feelings by throwing herself into a fight. Perhaps the Avengers aren’t the best people to take emotional advice from.

But the Captain has a point: anything is better than nothing, anything is better than the sight of Pietro’s ghost at every corner. Maybe Wanda was alright with it before, desperate to hold onto some part of him, even if that meant her heart would never heal. But now….

“And, you get to punch some Hydra goons,” Steve adds.

Wanda doesn’t smile, but it’s a close thing. “Alright.”


	4. Empathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wanda sees through Vision's emotionless robot facade.

Wanda has always thought it odd that she has yet to be punished for her actions. The first time Agent Hill walked in the door, Wanda froze, thinking that she was going to be sent back to another cramped cell. 

To this day, Wanda doesn’t actually know if that was what Hill had planned to do. Only that Tony had intercepted Hill right at the door, dragged her into a room somewhere, and Hill had left two hours later looking furious.

Government agents are actually always in and out the door. None of them have SHIELD badges, but the suspicious looks Steve gives them suggests otherwise.

That is, until one day when Wanda hears Steve curse loudly in the living room.

“I’d make a language joke,” Tony says, walking in at the same time as Wanda, “But something tells me you wouldn’t appreciate it very much.”

Steve fixes Tony with a grave look. “The UN is considering renewing SHIELD’s charter,” he says.

A few hours later, while Wanda is curled up on a couch pretending to read, and Steve sits on the opposite couch, fiddling with a StarkPad, Maria Hill shows up at their door again.

“What do you want Hill?” Steve snaps.

Agent Hill glares at Steve. “I take it you heard the news?”

Steve doesn’t answer. 

Hill sighs. “I told them you wouldn’t take it well…” she mumbles.

“How was I supposed to take it?” Steve says, his arms crossed, “We took SHIELD down for a reason.”

Hill shrugs somewhat guiltily, then changes the subject. “The government wants psych evals. Before your mission next week.”

Wanda had thought that mission was classified. Judging by the way Steve’s eyes widen, then narrow, he had thought so too.

“Government huh?” he mutters bitterly, “Should I bother asking about which one? Or have you not thought that deeply about your cover?”

“It’s not a lie Steve. Capitol Hill wants--”

“--bullshit Maria,” he snaps. Hill recoils, and Steve sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Fine, how many psychologists did you bring?”

Three, as it turns out. Steve calls the team into the living room, not-so-politely asks Agent Hill to wait outside, then sighs again.

He’s doing a lot of sighing today.

“Sorry to spring this on you all, but the government wants Psych Evals.”

Clint groans theatrically.

“Don’t our old ones work?” Clint whines. 

“I doubt anything still counts after Sokovia. Be on your best behavior, don’t give them a reason to bench you for this next mission.”

Clint, Natasha, and Tony all nod. Vision and Wanda exchange confused glances-- it’s become something of a routine for them.

Steve turns to the two of them. “I’m sure you have a general idea about what Psych Evals are. This one won’t be any different. SHIELD, or whoever, just wants to know you’re stable before letting you out onto the field.”

Wanda looks around and counts: two secret spies with dark histories, a former war profiteer turned philanthropist with overwhelming guilt issues, a soldier displaced 80 years out of time, a literal robot, and a Sokovian protester turned Hydra experiment turned reluctant hero. Thor is off on Sokovia duty right now which is unfortunate, as Wanda would probably count him as one of the most stable of group. She wonders how they have managed to pass psych evals in the past.

“The government is usually fairly reluctant to bench us, but that might be different now, so be extra careful. Clint, Tony, Vision, I want you three to go first. Vision, download whatever databases you can. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Tony… behave yourself.”

Tony rolls his eyes and mumbles something that sounds like “yes grandpa” as the three of them walk outside.

Steve turns to face Wanda. “I know this seems impossible. But if Natasha and I can pass psych evals, you can too.”

Wanda gulps. Right.

“So, what do you want to know?” Natasha asks, and for the next half hour they sit in the living room discussing how to trick psych questions, until Clint walks into the room, yawning. “Your turn Cap.”

Wanda palms begin to sweat so she curls them into her skirt. But then she remembers Natasha saying that closed of body posture is a sign of standoffishness and an unwillingness to play with others. Not to mention her mood can impact the minds of others if she’s not careful with keeping a leash on her powers.

She walks into the interrogation room taking deep breaths and willing herself to remain calm. She’s in there for almost an hour, when the yelling starts.

Wanda had been experiencing a growing sense of foreboding as the interrogation dragged on for much longer than a typical psyche eval, but it’s the yelling that finally clues her in.

This is not an evaluation, this is a test.

After this revelation, it takes everything in Wanda’s body to remain calm, to keep from lashing out, to keep her breath steady and her powers in check.

By the time the psychologist (scientist) stands up with a bland smile and tells her she can leave, it’s dark outside. She can still hear yelling coming from down below. 

“They kept you in as well?” she hears Vision say behind her.

She turns around, heart pounding, still queasy, and nods. There’s a loud bang downstairs, something crashes. Steve probably slammed something down on a table, cracking the table in the process.

“I don’t really want to go down there,” Wanda mumbles. The Vision nods. 

The two stare at each other for a moment— Wanda wonders if robots are supposed to be able to look awkward— then Wanda says: “Do you want to go up to the roof?”

She had discovered the charm of the Barton roof two days after Nathaniel was born— it’s nice up there. Quiet.

The two easily levitate themselves out of a window and up into the night air. 

“Was it just the two of us they questioned for so long?” Wanda asks.

“We are the two new variables,” Vision says by way of response.

Wanda nods and lets her gaze go unfocused. “Makes sense. What did they ask you?”

“Reactions. They’d tell me stories, scenarios, designed to evoke emotion, then observe my response.” 

Wanda quirks her lips unhappily. “They talked about Pietro a lot. They were trying to provoke me— us.”

“I am not one who is easily provoked.”

Wanda laughs quietly. “That’s not true.”

Vision looks at her strangely. “Compared to you Ms. Maximoff…” 

“Are you calling me emotional?” she says in mock offense. He’s right, of course, and Wanda knows it. But then again, Wanda is a slab of marble compared to the swirling emotions of her brother.

He looks rather alarmed at her response, and Wanda can’t help it. She bursts out laughing, then laughs even harder at his affronted look.

“There you go,” she says with a satisfied smile, “An emotional response. That wasn’t so hard.”

 

He turns away as Wanda tries to hide her grin. “You are aware that I do not experience emotions the same way as the rest of you,” Vision states after a moment. 

Bullshit. Is Wanda’s immediate response. She can hear the vulnerability in his very words, feel it in the air as the night grows larger and the two of them grow smaller in comparison.

“I don’t believe that,” Wanda says softly after a moment. “You dream just like humans.”

Vision gives her a surprised look. “How did you know…”

Wanda ducks her head. “Sorry— I uh peeked into your mind when you were still, you know, an maniacal robot vessel.”

There’s an almost imperceptible whirring as Vision’s eyes widen. He stares at Wanda, face completely still, before saying in an impossibly quiet (wonderstruck) voice, “So it was you… you were the first thing I felt.”

And Wanda doesn’t really have anything to say to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Vision/Wanda owns my entire soul and I'm really glad they seem to be going for it in the MCU   
> \- the MCU's age gap is a bit creep though


End file.
